


A broken home mended

by lasersheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Season 8, Shiro gets divorced, i tried to make it mostly sad but whoops it's accidentally soft and funny, non-scientific space magic mumbo jumbo (eventually), shiro whump, side pairing: allurance, space fam- gettin the band back together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-18 16:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16998312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith
Summary: Shiro never wanted to sit behind a desk, his place was always among the stars. Peace brings him little solace as he longs for the family that it tore apart. Keith finds a way to help.A console beeped off screen to Keith’s left and he glanced over with a frown. “Sorry to cut this short. Duty calls,” he said with an apologetic smile.“Yeah, of course.” Shiro licked his lips and looked down at the sand piling onto the tops of his boots. “We should do this more,” he suggested quietly.Keith cleared his throat, drawing Shiro’s eyes back to the screen. “I’ll always answer when you call, Shiro.”The earnest promise fell like lead falling onto his sternum. His lungs burned as he tried to take a deep breath. “I’ll call more,” he whispered, a watery smile pulling at his cheeks.“Good.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's a little early yet to be posting something so spoiler-heavy. Sorry about that. I really needed to write this fic and I hope maybe it'll help some of you, too. 
> 
> I still love the show, but to me, Voltron was about strength through unity and hope and love and I just can't accept an epilogue with Allura gone and having never gotten to enjoy her new family and help her people find their place in the universe while the rest of the Paladins barely keep in touch and aren't even friends anymore. 
> 
> So I'm gonna... fix it, I guess.

The high-pitched pinging noise signaling another email hit Shiro’s ears like a punch to the gut. He clicked off of the report he’d been working on all morning to skim the first paragraph. The memo wasn’t long, but it did render everything in his current report completely useless.

“Typical.” Shiro spat the word out like venom. 

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and slid his chair away from the desk, needing space. The spacious corner office suddenly felt far too small. He took a deep breath, though it did nothing to soothe the pounding in his head or the blood starting to boil in his veins. 

Another alert chimed on his computer, reminding him of the meeting slated to take up the rest of his day; a continuation of the fruitless meetings that had been happening every afternoon for the last month. His vision went white and his pulse thundered in his neck. 

His chair rocketed backwards from the force of his legs as he shot to his feet. The framed photo of team Voltron on the corner of his desk rocked back and forth as Shiro pounded his left hand against the wood. It tipped forward, knocking into the wedding picture next to it and sending them both clattering to the ground, glass frames shattering. 

Anger burned in Shiro’s chest more fiercely than he’d ever felt before. He didn’t even attempt to calm himself, sweeping his arms across the desk with a growl. The papers, pens, and computer flew across the room and riddled the floor. It wasn’t enough. 

The entire desk upended without Shiro even feeling the strain of tossing it onto its side. He stood panting over it, fists clenched. He wanted to scream.

The door burst open, slamming into the wall. “Takashi? Are you ok?” 

Shiro wheeled, the form shadowing the doorway not the one he’d expected, though he knew it should have been. His face burned in embarrassment at having been caught mid-temper tantrum.

“Yeah, I,” he paused, letting his clenched fingers and tight shoulders relax. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.” 

Curtis took a few cautious steps forward, cupping Shiro’s jaw in one hand and resting the other on Shiro’s hip. He fought back the urge to bristle at the contact. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, I’ll call Sam. Someone can cover for you this afternoon.” 

Shiro tried to force himself to smile, but he knew it came out as woodenly as it felt. “Thank you,” he murmured, turning towards the mess he’d made with a sigh. “I should… probably clean this up.” 

Curtis’s brows furrowed further. “I’ll take care of it, you should go rest.” 

Shiro nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.” 

* * *

He’d hoped that flying around the desert aimlessly would bring him some kind of clarity. He should have known that he’d end up in the spot where things had all gone to hell. 

The shack was gone of course, the Galra had destroyed it when they’d bombarded Earth, but what little wreckage had survived still littered the site. He parked the bike and walked up the small mound, staring out into the distant sunset. A ghost of a voice whispered in the back of his mind and he swore he could feel a hand rest on his shoulder. 

_ It’s good to have you back.  _

He pulled out his tablet and dialed Keith’s frequency before he could talk himself out of it. 

Keith’s bleary eyes widened when he recognized Shiro’s face. “Shiro? Everything ok?” 

Shiro bit his lip as he considered how to answer. “Yeah, sorry,” he chuckled. “I forgot about the time difference. I can let you get back to bed. Just wanted to chat.” 

Keith yawned and stretched his arms over his head and Shiro tried not to watch the muscles ripple and stretch taut under the thin sleep shirt he wore. “It’s almost four anyway, alarm was about to go off.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither knowing what to say until Keith finally broke the silence. “They finally give you a day off?” 

The ruins he’d left in his office and the thought of his husband cleaning up his mess had the tentative smile on his lips wavering. “Nah, I was feeling nostalgic so I took the afternoon off. Your bike is still in great shape, by the way.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Keith murmured. His eyes roved over Shiro’s blurry face on the screen. “No offense, but you seem like you could use a real vacation.” 

The corner of Shiro’s mouth ticked up into a sad half smile. “Well you look like you could use a comb.”

Keith groaned, scrubbing through his hair with his fingers until most of it was laying flat. They laughed together for a moment and the vice on Shiro’s chest loosened.  _ A real vacation,  _ he thought to himself. It sounded nice. 

“So, how’s Curt?” Keith asked, any fondness leached from his voice. 

Shiro sighed. “Well, he still hates being called Curt,” Shiro tried to joke. “But he’s fine. All the engineers are working a lot lately with all the Teluduv hubs going live in the major coalition systems.” Keith nodded but didn’t add anything. “We, uh,” he swallowed hard before continuing. “Well it's been busy.” An awkward silence stretched between them for a long moment. “Anyway, uh, how have you been?”

Keith shrugged. “Fine, just working a lot mostly. Still a lot of people that need help.” 

“And your mom’s doing good?” Shiro prodded. He knew he should let Keith get ready for work, but he wasn’t ready for their conversation to end. 

Keith chuckled. “She’s been taking care of most of the diplomatic stuff,” he smiled, fondness crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Technically I’m on the council, but I like being on the ground more.” His smile quirked into an amused smirk. “Kolivan’s gonna make his move any day now.” 

Shiro choked out a laugh. “God, finally.” Keith chuckled at his reaction. “I’ll keep an eye out for the happy announcement.” 

A console beeped off screen to Keith’s left and he glanced over with a frown. “Sorry to cut this short. Duty calls,” he said with an apologetic smile. 

“Yeah, of course.” Shiro licked his lips and looked down at the sand piling onto the tops of his boots. “We should do this more,” he suggested quietly. 

Keith cleared his throat, drawing Shiro’s eyes back to the screen. “I’ll always answer when you call, Shiro.” 

The earnest promise fell like lead falling onto his sternum. His lungs burned as he tried to take a deep breath. “I’ll call more,” he whispered, a watery smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Good.” 

The screen went black as Keith ended the call, and Shiro tucked his tablet back into his riding bag. His knees and palms hit the sand, billowing up a cloud of dust that clawed at his already stinging eyes and burning throat. He sobbed into the dirt, taking solace only in the fact that no one was there to witness the pathetic conclusion of the realization he’d been fighting all day. 

The realization he’d been fighting for years, if he were honest with himself. 

Orange light from the slowly sinking sun glinted off of the golden band around his finger and he felt bile rise into his throat. He had no strength to hold it back and gagged, retching and then heaving until his limbs shook with the effort of holding him up. 

Shiro crawled back to the bike and leaned against it. His heart was pounding and his body ached. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. The bag with his water and emergency rations was on the ground a few meters away, having slid from his shoulder and tumbled down the small hill when he’d fallen. 

His prosthetic was cumbersome and made his heart ache with memories of Allura every time he used one of it’s more unusual features at the best of times, and tears welled to his eyes anew as he shot it to retrieve the bag. Rinsing the acrid taste from his mouth and spitting the remnants as far to his side as he could, he took small sips and watched the stars twinkle to life in the twilight. 

It was starting to get cold and he knew Curtis would be worried, so he lumbered into the driver’s seat. There was nothing in the desert at night that Shiro couldn’t handle, and the lights of the Garrison would be visible for kilometers once he got closer, so he wasn’t concerned as he passed the familiar ridges and mesas on his way back. 

Light was shining underneath the door to their quarters when Shiro finally made his way from the garage. The conversation he knew was about to occur had been playing in his mind throughout his ride. Taking a deep breath that did little to calm his nerves, he opened the door and went inside. 

Curtis was sitting at the small table in their kitchenette. Shiro had always thought the modified officers’ quarters felt cozy, but as he sat down across from his husband, they just felt small. “Curtis, I,” 

Curtis’s eyes were rimmed with red, but a small smile graced his features. “I’ve been really worried about you,” he sniffed and slid a pile of papers towards Shiro’s end of the table.

Shiro frowned as he looked over them. “Extended leave? I, what?” He shook his head as he noted that everything but the dates had already been filled out 

“Go be with your friends, Takashi. We both know you hate this,” he gestured around them. “Being on the ground, being away from the action, it’s just not you.” 

Shiro’s mouth was dry and licking his lips did little to help. “It’s been a little claustrophobic lately,” he agreed quietly, unable to meet his husband’s gaze. 

“You should retire,” Curtis whispered, eyes brimming with more unshed tears. “Everyone would understand. You’ve done enough. You deserve to be happy.” 

“Curtis, I,” Shiro’s throat burned and swallowed past the lump that threatened to choke him. “What about you?” 

Curtis shook his head. “We’ll talk about that when you get back. It’s not exactly a secret that this hasn’t been working for a while.” 

Shiro nodded. “I,” he sighed, letting his tense shoulders droop. “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” 

The short answer was warm, full of love that Shiro barely remembered how to receive, but tinged with a sadness that made the air feel thick as he struggled for breath. 

“Sign that and let’s go to bed,” Curtis suggested, the tiredness that Shiro felt emanating from both of them leaking into his words. “I’ll file it for you first thing.” 

“Thank you.” He grabbed the pen and scrawled his signature and initials on the appropriate blank lines.

They walked into the bedroom several paces apart and quietly got ready for bed. The gap between them was only inches, but the valley of soft sheets felt like miles. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d gone to sleep curled around each other, and it shocked and saddened him that he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

* * *

True to his word, Curtis was gone and so were the papers by the time Shiro got up the next morning. He packed a bag full of his few casual clothes and toiletries after his shower. With his skin still warm and slightly damp, his ring slid off easily and he set it on Curtis’s nightstand. He grabbed his bag and left their quarters without looking back. 

When he arrived at the hangar, it was bustling. Inspectors, maintenance technicians, and pilots readying for the day’s drills milled about unhurriedly but with purpose. Shiro wandered, unsure of how he was going to get off planet. He knew he couldn’t just steal a ship, no matter how easy it would have been. The last thing he wanted was to return for a court martial.

Griffin jogged to his side and saluted as he passed the MFE team. “Sir!” 

Shiro nodded to him instead of saluting back. “Griffin,” he replied tersely, not in the mood for a conversation. 

“Your ship is being loaded with supplies right now. I’ve already verified the maintenance logs and checked the fuel.” 

Shiro raised an eyebrow and pulled out his tablet. He quickly scanned an email confirming his leave request had been accepted and another that provided the details for the ship that had been logged out in his name. “Thank you, Commander. At ease,” he said, realizing Griffin had been standing at attention while he waited. 

Griffin nodded and relaxed slightly. “Where are you going, sir? If you don’t mind me asking?” 

Shiro hadn’t been sure until that moment, but the word spilled from his lips and he knew there never could have been another answer. “Daibazaal.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Take off went smoothly once he'd relayed his intended coordinates to STC. It felt immeasurably good to have a yoke under his palms again, even if he could only really feel one of them. He'd barely left the atmosphere before it was time to zip through the glowing Teleduv portal they'd opened for him. 

Daibazaal glistened in the distance and he smiled as the traffic in the system littered his screens. He flew around for a while, just enjoying the feeling of space all around him and the silence in his cockpit. His cheeks stretched wide with a smile and he pulled out his tablet to call Keith again. 

“Keith here,” he answered gruffly, eyes widening when he recognized Shiro on the screen. “They unchained you from your desk two days in a row! Or did you gnaw through?” 

Shiro laughed and marveled at the way Keith's eyes sparkled around his teasing smile. “I thought about what you said and decided to take a vacation. I think I might have a set a record for  _ fastest leave orders ever approved.  _ I'm actually in orbit around Daibazaal right now.” 

Keith grinned. “Perfect timing. Relief effort just finished this morning, so I'm headed home in a couple hours.” 

All the tension in Shiro's shoulders that his stint around the system didn't shake loose melted away. “We should get dinner,” he suggested. 

“I'll call you as soon as I land.” 

Keith's answer came without hesitation and it made Shiro's heart soar. They chatted about Shiro's visit for a few minutes and decided on a place to eat before Keith had to go prepare his team to leave the system. A quick but fond goodbye with the security of knowing he'd see Keith in hours left him alone in the ship again. It was the least lonely he'd felt in years. 

* * *

The space port was crowded after the recent arrival. Blades and refugees filed off the ship in twos and threes, some pausing to get their bearings and holding up the foot traffic behind them. Shiro was farther back from the platform, out of the way and with a wall at his back, watching and waiting. 

Keith exited the ship and didn’t need to stop and search the crowd; he was the spinning needle of a compass and Shiro was true north. Their eyes met and Keith let the bag on his shoulder drop to the ground as he closed the distance between them. 

Shiro set his own bag down more carefully and reached out his left hand. Keith hooked their thumbs together and didn’t stop walking until their chests were flush. The bulky prosthetic kept them from the hug they’d grown accustomed to, but they both melted into the mirror of that familiar embrace, cheeks pressed against each other. 

“I missed you so much,” Shiro whispered, letting his eyes slide closed, basking in Keith’s warm skin against his face. 

Keith’s grip on his hand and shoulder tightened briefly, loosening again after a long moment. “I missed you, too.” He let go and took a step back, letting his eyes rove over Shiro’s face before retrieving his abandoned luggage. “Let’s drop our stuff off and grab dinner.”

Shiro shouldered his bag again and draped his hand across Keith’s back, the weight of his prosthetic pressing lightly into Keith’s shoulder as they walked. Gone were the days of the Blades’ hidden bases, secured behind black holes and supernovae; Daibazaal’s capital city was a sprawling hub, and the headquarters made up most of the central square. 

Keith led Shiro to his quarters and dropped off his bag, pointing out the room across the hall and giving Shiro the entry code. “The rooms are pretty small, hopefully that’s ok.” 

Shiro grinned as they stepped inside. “Tiny room, right across the hall from you? Sounds like the good old days,” he said with a laugh as dropped his bag next to the bed. 

Keith’s lips quirked up into a lopsided smile. “Yeah, it really does,” he agreed quietly. They stood quietly together, reminiscing about the home they forged on the Castle of Lions. “Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s go.” Keith slapped a hand against Shiro’s back suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts. 

* * *

Shiro glared down at the blurry menu and tried to squint the small print into focus. With a sigh, he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, hesitating as his hand wrapped around the thin case inside. “Do  _ not _ make fun of me, I swear,” he trailed off, looking up at Keith suspiciously.

He clicked open the protective case and pulled the reading glasses out, sliding them over the bridge of his nose with frown. Keith stared at him blankly for a long moment. “Fine, you can have  _ one _ joke,” Shiro groaned, holding up a finger for emphasis. 

To his surprise, Keith didn't laugh or make a comment about Shiro's age. His cheeks flushed a pale pink that Shiro immediately dismissed as a trick of the dim lighting. “Nah,” Keith murmured, looking down at his own menu again. “They suit you.” 

Shiro stammered out a soft “thank you,” and tried to focus on picking something he recognized. He’d learned a fair bit of the Galran script but most of it was technical in nature and little help in choosing a meal. 

Folding the menu and clasping his hands over top of it, he cleared his throat and smiled as Keith did the same. “Don’t worry, I’ll pick something for you,” he said with a laugh. 

Shiro ducked behind his bangs, thankful that he’d put off getting a haircut for ages, and nodded his appreciation. “You seem like you’re doing really well.” He brushed the hair out of his eyes as his embarrassment abated.

“I am, thanks. I,” his eyes dipped to Shiro’s hands. “I wish I could say the same.” 

The quiet admission shocked him. His fingers unfolded from each other and splayed out over the table before clenching and retreating into his lap. “Yeah, that’s,” he cleared his throat. “That’s probably fair.” 

Their waiter arrived, trying to break through the tense atmosphere with an overly-syrupy friendliness that only served to darken the mood farther. The table was quiet after they ordered, but not in the companionable silence that Shiro found himself longing for. Keith was fighting with something in his own mind, jaw tightening and loosening, but he said nothing. 

They ate in silence for a few moments until Keith cleared his throat and set his fork on the side of his plate. “So how long are you here for?” He asked, finally looking up at Shiro’s face again. 

“Paperwork’s filled out for six Earth weeks,” Shiro replied with a shrug. “I can get out of your hair sooner if you’re busy.” 

Keith’s brows furrowed. “I’m never too busy for you.” Deep creases pulled at his face and his mouth dropped open to speak again, snapping closed with a frustrated grunt. 

Shiro didn’t know what to say. After years of barely seeing each other, barely speaking, it hurt him to know that he couldn’t read Keith’s expressions and body language like the open book he’d once been. “Keith, I,” 

Keith didn’t let him finish. “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?” He tried to keep his voice low, but the uncomfortable question hung in the air, drawing the eyes of other patrons around them. 

Shiro glanced down at his hand, at the indented strip of pale flesh around his ring finger. “It… it didn’t work out.”

“Why not?” 

The pain in Keith’s voice felt like a knife in Shiro’s chest. “We… we should probably talk about this somewhere more private,” he said just above a whisper, face growing hot at the interested stares he could feel on his back. 

“Fine,” Keith gritted out, rising to his feet. Shiro’s eyes widened as he watched Keith walk away. 

The fear in his stomach uncoiled as Keith moved further into the restaurant, towards the kitchen instead of out the front door. Uncomfortable shouts in languages he didn’t recognize spilled from the kitchen as Keith strode inside. He stalked back out, dumping two boxes onto the table and pulling out a handful of credits to toss between them. 

“We’ll talk in my room,” Keith all but ordered, scraping his food messily into the container. 

Shiro followed his lead, biting back the sarcastic  _ yes sir  _ burning a hole in the tip of his tongue. He knew Keith deserved the truth and not his pithy bitterness. The walk back to Keith’s room at the Blade headquarters felt twice as long as the trip to the diner had with the air between them strained and thick. Neither of them spoke until Keith’s door hissed closed behind them. 

Keith set his leftovers on his spartan desk and reached behind him for Shiro’s. Shiro was already at his side, gently placing his own box next to Keith’s with a sigh. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he murmured, eyes searching Keith’s for some kind of answer. 

Keith’s eyes narrowed, hope and pain warring to coat his features. “I think you do.” 

Shiro pulled off his glasses and set them on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I,” he shook his head, walking around Keith to take a seat at the edge of his bed. “It was stupid to think it would have ever worked out.” The words felt like hot coals as they clawed their way out of his throat. “The Garrison needed everyone to see normalcy. To feel like it was possible to get back the dream of falling in love and getting married and living happily ever after while we were rebuilding.” 

Keith crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk. “So you were just playing poster-boy? Doesn’t seem very fair to anyone.”

“I don’t know.” Shiro buried his face in his hands. “I thought it was what I wanted, that I could handle sitting back and playing politician once the Atlas’s unification mission was finished.” His arms dropped back to his lap and he looked up at Keith through the tears welling in his eyes. “I thought settling down and starting a family would fill the hole that’s always been in my chest, but it just made things worse.” 

Keith sighed and sat down next to him, letting their knees bump together. “Why did you push me away?” He whispered. Shiro knew it wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask. 

The dam holding back his tears finally broke. A bitter sob wracked his shoulders and Keith reached around his back, pulling him closer to rest his head against Keith’s. 

“You didn’t need me anymore,” Shiro finally gritted out once his breaths came closer to evenly. “I didn’t want you to have to choose between me and your people, your family. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

Keith let out a bitter chuckle. “So you picked for me?” The amusement in his tone gave Shiro pause. He’d expected Keith to be angry, to yell at him, rage and scream. Shiro knew he would have if their positions were reversed. The thought of his destroyed office and shattered marriage reminded him that he had. 

Instead, Keith squeezed his shoulder and gently rubbed his temple against Shiro’s. “You’re so dumb sometimes,” he whispered fondly. 

Shiro pulled away with a frown, brows furrowed in silent question.

“Unlike some people, my mom knows how to use a phone,” Keith teased, raising a gloved hand to wipe the half-dried tracks of tears from Shiro’s cheeks. Anger welled in Shiro’s chest but he didn’t get a chance to give it voice before Keith spoke again.  _ “You  _ are my family, Shiro. Nothing is  _ ever _ going to change that.” 

His anger cooled, pooling into his gut with a pang of regret. There was no sense in wallowing in the past, he could only hope it wasn’t too late to fix the damage he’d done. “I guess you’re saving me from myself this time,” he choked out, sobbing through a dark chuckle.  

Keith nodded without hesitation. “As many times as it takes, remember?” 

A lot of the clone’s memories were fuzzy, half-formed scenes with context that didn’t always make sense to him. That one was one of the few that came through in shining crystal clarity. 

Shiro shifted towards him, raising his left hand to cup Keith’s chin. His thumb dragged across the too-smooth flesh of the scar that he remembered all too well burning into Keith’s skin. All of his doubts melted away at the soft, hopeful smile Keith gave him.

The first press of their lips against each other was gentle, like slipping quietly into a dream. Their mouths moved together slowly and Shiro let the tension melt from his body as he pressed as much of himself as he could against Keith. His hand trailed slowly up Keith's face, fingers sinking softly into his hair. 

Keith was a smoldering ember, bursting into full flame at the gentle breeze of Shiro’s tender touch. He pushed Shiro down onto the bed, lips chasing after him as he fell. Their tongues slid against each other as their hands pulled at every layer of cloth between them. 

The evening faded in a tangle of limbs and sweat and desperate cries until moving their exhausted bodies was too great an effort to overcome. They fell asleep pressed chest to chest, their spent arms gripping each other as tightly as they could manage. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't mind me, I've just been crying and writing all day.....

Shiro woke up the next morning more sore than he’d been since the arena with a mouthful of Keith’s hair and a numb left leg from bearing most of Keith’s weight for half the night. He laughed as he smoothed Keith’s hair away from both of their faces, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his wrinkled nose as he fought against regaining consciousness. 

Keith blinked a few times, confusion melting into an awed smile that took Shiro’s breath away. “G’morning,” Keith whispered, scooting even closer and running his nose along Shiro’s. 

“Good morning,” Shiro murmured back against Keith’s lips. 

They kissed unhurriedly, both too tired to do more than lazily enjoy the soft slide of skin against skin. Keith’s stomach growled, drawing a laugh from both of them. “Should probably… get breakfast,” he muttered, trailing kisses across Shiro’s jaw as he shifted Shiro onto his back. 

Shiro’s eye drifted closed. “I don’t know if I can walk after last night,” he teased, sighing as Keith found every bruise and scratch he’d left on Shiro’s chest, soothing them with his lips and tongue. 

“Could carry you.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Shiro chuckled and then gasped, arching his back at the scrape of teeth against his collar bone. “Keith,” he whimpered. 

A soft lick relieved the sting and Keith curled himself around Shiro’s side, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. They laid there for a long while, listening to each other’s slow, steady breathing. 

Keith’s stomach growled again and he huffed in frustration, burying his face farther into Shiro’s embrace. “Don’t wanna get up,” he grumbled. 

Shiro laughed and trailed a hand down Keith’s back. “How much do you trust our leftovers after being out all night?” 

Keith’s head poked up from his hiding spot and he raised an eyebrow. “If it means not having to leave, I say we risk it.” 

Shiro pressed another kiss to Keith’s cheek and sent his prosthetic sailing across the room to retrieve their food. They begrudgingly sat up against the headboard, sides still pressed together as they ate their questionable breakfast with dirty hands. 

Keith paused and chuckled quietly to himself, turning towards Shiro with a smirk. Shiro raised an eyebrow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Since you’re technically still married, does this make me a homewrecker?” 

Shiro blinked in surprise before they both collapsed against each other in a fit of giggles. “He’s actually the one that told me to leave, so,” Shiro shrugged. 

Keith scoffed and went back to his food. “His loss,” he grumbled around a mouthful. 

Shiro swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and wiped his hand on the sheets, knowing they’d need a thorough washing anyway. He cupped Keith’s chin and turned it gently so they were facing each other. 

He smiled and leaned in to press their lips together. “I love you.”

Keith’s smile wavered and he lunged forward, not caring at all about the mess as their dinner-turned-breakfast spilled across the bed. Their teeth clattered as Keith gripped the back of Shiro’s head and kissed him until they were both breathless. 

Shiro smiled as they broke apart, panting. “Are you gonna do that every time?” 

“Probably,” Keith chuckled, righting the containers and scooping as much of the spilled food as he could back into them. 

He balled the thin top sheet around the mess and stood, reaching for Shiro’s hand to help him up. They wordlessly stripped the rest of the bed and tossed everything down the laundry chute in the corner. 

“I feel really bad for whoever has to deal with that,” Shiro said with a smirk as he stretched. 

Keith cringed. “Hopefully it’s automated.” His eyes tore a path down Shiro’s body, lips curling into a smile. “We should probably shower.” 

Shiro nodded and followed him into the small attached bathroom. 

* * *

A long shower and another set of ruined sheets led them to a proper meal in the busy dining hall. The crowded room was the only thing keeping their hands off of each other, though Shiro still couldn’t resist hooking his ankle around Keith’s underneath the table. They ate quietly, looking up between bites to stare into each other’s eyes and reassure themselves that the last twelve hours had actually occurred. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Shiro murmured, clenching his prosthetic fist at his side. “Do you think Oriande is back?” 

Keith tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed in thought. “Daibazaal and Altea are back, don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Why?” 

Shiro shrugged. “It might be crazy, but,” he pushed his food around on his plate. “Allura said the spirits of ancient Alteans rested there. What if she’s there now?” He looked up at Keith, eyes shining with hope. 

Keith frowned. “She might be, but,” he shook his head. “I thought you guys said only  _ worthy Alteans  _ were allowed in?” 

Shiro sighed and nodded. “We could see if Coran knows of anyone? There are some magical Alteans left. At least get someone to pass on a message for us.” 

“If that’s what you want, let’s do it.” 

He smiled, Keith’s earnesty and willingness to drop everything for him making his heart swell with fondness while sending another stab of guilt into the pit of his stomach. “Maybe in a few days,” he said, pausing for a deep breath. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” He let the tip of his boot slide up the back of Keith’s calf.

A deep red flush blossomed across Keith’s cheeks, suddenly shy in the bustling cafeteria. He coughed into his fist and took a sip of his water. Shiro shook his head. “Really? After last night?” 

“Oh my god,” Keith groaned quietly, eyes darting from side to side around them. “My _mom_ eats here.”

Shiro laughed for a moment before stopping to grimace. “Does she hate me now?” 

“What? No.” Keith sat up straighter, head darting backwards. “Why would she hate you?” 

Relief washed over him. He hadn’t seen Krolia in years, but she’d been nothing if not kind and warm to him, even at the wedding. Nodding, he resolved to seek her out and be sure as soon as he could. 

Keith laid his fork across his tray and splayed his hands on either side of it. “Can we… go back to my room and stop talking about my mom, please?” 

Shiro grinned, standing up and grabbing his nearly empty tray in one quick motion. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

* * *

Waking up with Keith’s arms around him was quickly becoming something Shiro knew he’d never be able to live without. Keith slept like the dead while curled around him, even though separately they’d both always been early risers. Shiro untangled their limbs as quietly as he could, hoping Keith would stay asleep, and made his way to the bathroom. 

On his way back to bed, he glanced at his tablet charging on Keith’s desk; after three days of pretending it didn’t exist in favor of spending every second he could at Keith’s side, the guilt began to gnaw at him. The screen flickered to life when he entered his passcode, and the number of notifications blinking for his attention made him close his eyes and sigh. 

He dismissed all of the emails that seemed like official Garrison business, assuming Iverson would be taking care of things in his stead. Matt had sent him over 40 texts, most of them stupid jokes or pictures of his dog. He replied to the most recent one, assuring Matt that he was alive and well and had simply decided to take a vacation. 

There were only two messages from Curtis, one dated two days ago and another a few hours later. Shiro sighed as he read them. “Don’t feel like you have to say anything, I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re ok.” “James said you went to Daibazaal.” 

He licked his lips and tried to swallow past the burning in his throat. “I did.” was all he could bring himself to respond. 

The reply came a few seconds later. “Are you with Keith?” 

Shiro bit his cheek and took a deep breath. “Yes” 

He waited, unsure if he should say anything else, or what he was hoping for Curtis to answer. The screen had long dimmed and faded to black before the reply brought it to life again. “Good” was all it said. 

Shiro had to laugh, he didn’t know what else to do. Setting it back on the desk, he crawled into bed as carefully as he left. Keith homed in on his warmth at once, crawling half on top of him and peppering sleepy kisses along his jaw. 

“You ok?” he asked quietly, voice thick and raspy.

Shiro turned and kissed his forehead. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Matt and Curtis messaged me.” 

Keith froze and Shiro felt his sharp inhale against his cheek. “What did you say?” 

“I told Matt to stop sending me memes and Curtis that I was with you.” 

“And?” 

Shiro shrugged. “He… understands.” 

Keith relaxed against him. “Good, I,” he shook his head, soft strands of sleep-strewn hair tickling Shiro’s chin and nose. “I was joking before, but I’d feel awful if what happened with you guys was my fault.” 

Shiro nudged him with his shoulder until Keith looked him in the eye. “It wasn’t you. I need you to believe me.” His prosthetic drifted up to cradle Keith’s face. “He and I just… we weren’t meant to be.” 

Keith nodded, turning to press a kiss into Shiro’s metal palm. “Ok,” he breathed, swallowing hard. “Let’s go back to sleep.” 

Shiro smiled and bumped their noses together before meeting his lips in a soft good night kiss and settling back against the pillows. 


	4. Chapter 4

“I'm probably gonna be gone for a while.” Keith crossed his arms and didn't meet Kolivan's eyes. 

A dozen screens littered the walls, tracking the relief efforts across the galaxy and beyond. Keith let his gaze rove over them, knowing each green dot was a community that he and his people were doing everything to help. It didn't make waiting for Kolivan's reply much easier. 

“And I'm sure this has nothing to do with Shiro's… visit?” Kolivan grunted, finally looking up from the report on his computer. 

Keith's head snapped towards him. “He left his husband.” The  _ for me  _ Keith desperately wanted to tack on died in his throat. 

Kolivan's painfully neutral expression didn't waver. “I see,” he hummed, though Keith couldn't tell whether or not it was in disapproval. 

They stared each other down, unblinking, until Kolivan rose to his feet and stopped in front of Keith with a sigh. “I'm sure you'll do what you feel is right.” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “I say this not to discourage you, but because I care, Keith. I do not always trust your judgement where he's concerned.” 

Keith clenched his teeth and took a deep, steadying breath before replying. “I know. But I,” he paused as his voice cracked. “I've lost him too many times.” 

Kolivan's hand squeezed gently. “We'll carry on until you return, just promise me that you'll be careful.” 

“I will. Thanks.” 

Kolivan nodded and walked back to his desk, staring intently at the screen. Keith shoved his hands into his pockets and left the office, guilt and doubt heavy in his chest. 

He caught sight of Shiro leaning against the wall in the hallway outside and breathed a little easier at his fond and hopeful smile. 

“How'd he take it?” Shiro asked, concern pulling at his sharp features. 

Keith let the corner of his mouth tick up into the ghost of a smile. “Just said to be careful.” 

The apprehension melted from Shiro’s face and he pulled Keith into a hug. “Next stop, Altea!” He whooped, spinning both of them in a circle as they laughed. 

They came to a slow stop and smiled at each other, excitement plowing through any misgivings about public displays of affection. Their mouths met with upturned lips, still grinning through the brief kiss they shared before pulling apart. Shiro's hand slid down Keith's arm to thread their fingers together as they headed for Keith's ship in the hangar. 

* * *

Shiro flipped the switches on the console in front of him from the copilot's seat while Keith did the same to his left. They made their way through the preflight checklist together without having to say a word, finally in sync again after such a long absence. 

Shiro paused and turned towards him with a smile that tugged at the corners of his eyes. “I've, I've really missed this.” 

Keith unhooked his harness and straddled Shiro's lap, capturing his lips insistently. Shiro froze for a moment in shock at the sudden display, but quickly recovered. He let his hands trail down Keith's back to grip his hips and pull them even closer, moaning into his mouth. They lost themselves in each other for too long, breaking apart only at the ping from the traffic controller notifying them of their missed take off window. 

They both laughed as Keith climbed off and took his seat again. “It's much better now,” he said with a smirk, hailing the tower before Shiro could respond. 

Shiro had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as Keith cited technical difficulties for their delay and requested a new window. They didn't have to wait long and soon they were in the air, blazing past the city and bursting through the clouds. 

Shiro reached across the gap between the seats and laid his hand on Keith's thigh. The only thing more beautiful than breaching the atmosphere and spilling forth into the vast expanse of space was watching Keith's face as he guided them. Keith set the autopilot coordinates and covered Shiro's hand with his own, threading their fingers together and smiling just on the edge of disbelief. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow as he looked up at the displays. “Do you think they'll give us Teluduv access for intersystem travel?” The choice of heading leading towards the hub seemed strange. 

“Actually, I was thinking we should go to Earth instead.” Keith bit his lip and squeezed Shiro's hand. 

Shiro blinked in surprise, considering how to respond. The last thing he wanted was a messy confrontation back at the Garrison before they went, but he knew he should trust Keith's judgment. “Why? Most of the Alteans with any kind of magical ability are at the academy on Altea.” 

“Before Allura,” Keith let out a shaky breath and shook his head. “When she kissed Lance, he got those Altean markings. Maybe,” he trailed off, swallowing hard.

Shiro closed his eyes and nodded, guilt washing over him again for the moment of doubt. Keith had never once let him down, and Shiro was determined to start earning that loyalty. Before he could agree, Keith had regained his composure. 

“Maybe it'll be enough magic or whatever to let him in.” 

Shiro nodded. “It’s worth a shot at least,” he sighed. “I wanted to know if it would work before we got his hopes up, though.” He slumped further in his seat.

Keith licked his lips. “If anyone can do it, it'll be him. They deserve to see each other again.” His voice came out raspy, like his throat had been raked over hot coals. 

Shiro squeezed his hand and smiled. “We’ll go to Earth then.” 

* * *

Keith set the small craft down in a field lying fallow at the edge of Lance's family's farm. He'd purposely left Shiro's name off of his register and didn't want to go through the hassle of securing his ship and acquiring ground transportation, with the added bonus of knowing Lance would be annoyed at his chosen parking spot. 

Lance was waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp with his hands on his hips. “You asshole! You can't just park on my field! What's wrong with you?” 

Shiro chuckled, the fingers laced with Keith's squeezing gently as he felt Keith's smug reply forming in his mind. “Good to see you too, Lance,” he interjected before Keith got the chance.

“Hey Shiro,” Lance deadpanned, glaring daggers at Keith. “Wait, what are you doing here?” He looked between them in surprise. “Aren't you supposed to be running the Garrison or whatever?”

Shiro shot Keith an amused look. He'd been under the impression that when Keith had messaged Lance to him they'd be coming, that he might have mentioned both of them. Keith shrugged, the corner of his mouth ticking up into a smirk. 

“Actually, Keith and I have something crazy and dangerous we wanna do and figured you'd wanna come along for the ride.” 

Lance frowned and crossed his arms. “What is it?” 

Keith looked warily into Shiro's eyes, waiting for him to nod almost imperceptibly before licking his lips and turning back towards Lance. “We want you to take us to Oriande.” 

Lance's brows furrowed and his mouth flattened into a thin line before twisting to the side in disgust. “That's a really shitty joke.” He turned around, stalking back towards the farmhouse. 

“Lance, we aren't joking,” Keith called after him. 

Lance paused but didn't turn around or speak. Shiro and Keith strode down the rest of the ramp and paused behind him. “Allura gave you part of her quintessence. It's not just a power source, it was part of her soul, Lance,” Shiro murmured, letting his prosthetic float to Lance's side to rest reassuringly on his shoulder. “I know you can do this.” He couldn't be sure, but he knew it was what Lance needed to hear. 

He sniffled and rubbed his face with one of his long sleeves. “What’s the point? I don't care about learning alchemy or whatever.” 

Keith let his bottom lip drag between his clenched teeth. “We think… we think she might be there. Maybe you'd get to talk to her again?” He cleared his dry throat and gripped Shiro's hand harder. “Tell her how much we all miss her.” His voice faded to a near whisper. 

Lance turned around, red, misty eyes looking between them desperately for any hint of deception. “I'm in,” he finally decided with a firm nod off his head. 

Shiro let out a sharp exhale that turned into a quiet laugh while Keith grinned at his side, tossing a friendly punch into Lance's shoulder. Lance's frown slowly faded into a soft smile and his eyes dropped from their faces towards the ground. 

“Wait, what?” Lance pointed at their still-joined hands. “Aren't you married? Isn't that illegal?” He shouted, pointing a finger at Shiro's chest. 

Shiro's laughter halted and his face narrowed at Lance's finger. “You're a farmer, not a lawyer,” he grumbled, pushing Lance's hand away from him. “Curtis knows and he's fine with it. We aren't together anymore.” 

Keith laughed. “Technically, I think you can be court martialed for adultery regardless of your spouse's feelings about it.” 

Shiro sputtered, turning towards Keith wide eyes. “You are  _ really _ not helping.” 

Keith barked out a laugh and held his hand up, palm towards Shiro. “Obviously, no complaints here. I'm just saying, Lance isn't completely wrong for once.” 

Shiro glared without a hint of malice behind it, wracking his brain for an equally cheeky response. The way the sunlight glinted off of Keith's eyes distracted him,it brightened his smile near to blinding and Shiro almost couldn't resist the urge to pull him in for another long-overdue kiss.

Lance shook his head at their staring match and threw his arms around both of their shoulders. “I can't believe I missed you guys.” 

All three of them dissolved into a fit of laughter in the middle of the field, clutching each other like a lifeline as they doubled over. Shiro hadn't been so full of hope and happiness in years. 


	5. Chapter 5

Lance’s dining room table had been transformed into the unofficial command center of the operation, much to his mother’s dismay. She tutted around them as they poured over star charts and incomplete galactic maps. The first few hours of their visit was spent talking and laughing, catching up like old friends do; the mood had quickly changed once they began plotting the trip in earnest. 

“We can’t go that way, it’s crawling with pirates. We’d never stand a chance,” Keith growled, picking up the stray ketchup packet and thrusting it into Lance’s face. “That’s why we put this there!” 

Lance groaned. “Why does ketchup mean pirates?” 

“It doesn’t,” Shiro said with a sigh. “It means ‘other dangerous thing.’ We already used all the knives for black holes.” 

“That’s stupid, black holes are nothing like knives!” 

“It doesn’t matter what we use to mark what!” 

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. Squinting at the maps all day without his glasses was giving him a migraine and listening to Keith and Lance squabble wasn’t helping. “Guys!” He shouted, drawing their attention at once. “Let’s get a piece of paper and write down what we’re using to symbolize what. That way if one of us forgets,” he said pointedly, staring at Lance. “We can look it up, so that no one else,” he turned to Keith, eyes a little softer but tone no less admonishing. “Feels the need to yell at anyone.” 

They both flushed, embarrassed at the dressing down and Shiro’s polite but firm correction. Lance grumbled, stomping out of the room to fetch some paper and pens while Keith stepped around the table to wrap his arms around Shiro’s waist with a quiet apology. Their bodies slotted together like they’d spent years tumbling into each other’s arms, not a matter of days. Shiro ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Gross,” Lance huffed, reappearing with writing implements in tow and slapping them down on the table. “Your ship is way too small for you guys to be doing that the whole time.” 

Keith glared at him. “I had to watch you hit on everything that moved for like four years. I’m sure you’ll manage.” 

Shiro chuckled and pulled Keith tighter to his chest. “We haven’t even busted out the cutesy nicknames yet.” 

Lance groaned again. “Nope, I’m out. Changed my mind. Can’t do it.” 

All three of them laughed and Shiro dropped another quick peck to Keith’s temple before letting him go. He moved to the other side of the table to take Keith’s spot next to Lance. Sighing as he squinted at Lance's tiny script, he pulled out his glasses and put them on. 

An impudent smile bloomed across Lance's face as he wrote. “Don't you dare,” Shiro murmured just above a whisper with an acidic hint to his tone. 

“I would  _ never,” _ Lance said, not even attempting to keep a straight face. “I totally dig the sexy librarian look. And I bet Keith does too.” He pumped his brows twice and smirked. 

His mouth opened and Shiro had already prepared a long list of potential mocking retorts, most of them farming related, when Lance gasped in pain and clutched at his leg. Keith sat across from him smugly, arms folded over his chest with a look of pride that had that Shiro wheezing as he laughed.

“Jesus, someone is touchy,” Lance muttered under his breath while he picked up his pen and finished their list. 

Keith's eyes roved over the maps and charts, brows furrowed and carving deep lines into his forehead. “We need Pidge,” he finally stated with finality, leaning back in his chair. “Ship's computer can't calculate this without maps and we don't know enough to piece it together.” 

The thought had occurred to Shiro an hour ago, loathe as he was to add another person who would inevitably be crushed if things didn't work out as planned. “I think Keith's right. And I should probably check in with Iverson, this might end up taking more time than I'm cleared for.” 

Keith nodded solemnly and gave Shiro a look that nearly tore his heart in two. They both knew it had to happen eventually but neither had thought it would be so soon. 

Curtis.

Shiro hadn't heard from him since his last message two days ago. He couldn't imagine what his husband must have thought of him. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. 

“Well if we're getting Pidge, we gotta get Hunk too. Get the whole gang back together,” Lance agreed, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. 

“I know you didn't just put your dirty shoes on my dining room table, because you're a good son and you would never do that to your mother!” An irritated voice called from the kitchen. 

Lance lowered his feet and cringed. “Anyway, if we have to watch you guys make out the whole time, Hunk will be mad that he didn't get to make fun of you.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. “If you're gonna make fun of us anyway, we'll earn it.” It was as much of threat as it was a promise. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow, not expecting Keith to be so cavalier. He stood with a smile and walked to Keith's side of the table, draping himself over Keith's back and nuzzling their cheeks together. “We sure will, baby,” he murmured, voice dripping saccharin.

Lance blanched and threw up his hands. “Allura is the only thing in the universe worth enduring  _ this.”  _ He stood in disgust and stalked down the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door. 

Keith's amused face softened as he turned away from Lance's spectacle and shifted to face Shiro. “I really like that, actually.” Even inches from his face, he spoke so quietly Shiro could barely hear him. 

“Yeah?” Shiro whispered, gaze tracing the wisps of hair that framed Keith's face and partially obscured his eyes. 

Keith nodded, leaning in to brush their lips together. “And I like the sexy librarian look.” His soft smile hardened into something much more devious. Shiro shook his head and chuckled, kissing him again. 

“No canoodling in my dining room!” Lance’s mother teased as she walked in from the kitchen. “You can do that in the bedroom after you help me clear off this table.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Shiro and Keith replied in unison with matching crimson cheeks. 

She smiled sweetly at them before taking a deep breath. “Lance! Come clean up your mess!” She bellowed, punctuated almost instantly by Lance’s frantic dash from the bedroom. 

Shiro and Keith shared a wry grin at their friend’s expense and helped clear the table. 

* * *

The next morning, Keith stumbled into the kitchen rubbing his tired eyes. He rummaged through the cabinets on a desperate search for coffee, doing his best not to ruin the chaotic organizational system that seemed to be in place. Halfway dozing as he leaned against the counter, lulled by the steady  _ drip drip drip  _ of the pot, he willed it to fill faster so he could retreat back to the bedroom and Shiro's warm embrace.

After a few agonizing minutes, the pot was finally full. He'd already found the mugs in one of the cabinets in his earlier search and pulled two down. Lance stumbled into the room while he was filling the mugs and pulled out a container of orange juice.

Keith wrinkled his nose as he watched Lance take a large swig straight from the carton and put it back in the fridge. "That's gross," he grumbled, sipping at his coffee.

"Shhh, no talky before coffee," Lance mumbled, brushing past him to grab a cup. "Wait... that is definitely not your shirt."

Keith's eyes widened and he looked down; he'd thought the shirt had seemed loose, but had been too tired to pay attention. His cheeks flushed as he realized it was far too large and tried to subtly pull the collar to avoid putting any of the fresh marks Shiro had left on him on too flagrant a display.

Lance's face paled. "My  _ grandma  _ sleeps in there when she visits! You guys are the worst," he moaned, dumping nearly as much sugar as he did coffee into his cup.

Keith cleared his throat and shifted his weight, trying to figure out how to respond. "Whatever. Shut up," he grunted, fleeing back into the relative safety of the guest room.

Shiro had curled around Keith's pillow in his absence, still mostly asleep. The sight had Keith's heart hammering in his chest with equal parts fondness and desire. He set the mugs on the nightstand and crawled back into the bed.

They'd both slept shirtless and Shiro was still only in his boxers, but he was still a nuclear furnace. The heat felt incredible after padding into the chilly kitchen and he pushed his way past the bedding to snuggle into Shiro’s chest.

All the rustling woke him, and he yawned wide, stretching out his arm before curling it back around Keith and pulling him closer. "G'morning baby," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into Keith's hair.

The petname sent shivers down his spine. "Brought you coffee," he replied, tilting his head up only far enough to kiss Shiro's chin.

Shiro hummed happily and finally opened his eyes all the way. "I love you."

The urge to pounce on him was strong, but Keith held himself back. He kissed Shiro slowly, savoring the feeling of their lips sliding together for only a moment before he pulled away. "I love you, too." He bumped their noses together. "Coffee's gonna get cold and it's a long flight to the Garrison."

Shiro jutted his bottom lip out, drawing a laugh from Keith as he leaned over to grab their mugs. "Hopefully Pidge won't take too much convincing," Shiro said, voice still raspy and heavy with sleep.

"I'm sure she won't." 


	6. Chapter 6

Shiro had almost forgotten how beautiful the Earth was. They spent the long flight mostly on autopilot, which gave him ample time to stare out of the cockpit's windows at the scenery flying by. The last five years he'd spent chained to a desk instead of up in the sky or across the stars weighed heavily on his shoulders.  
  
Before he could drown under the weight of his regrets, Keith squeezed his hand just hard enough to catch his attention. Shiro turned and raised an eyebrow at the gesture.  
  
"Quit brooding," he said with a smirk. "Thought that was my job?"  
  
Shiro laughed and squeezed his hand back. "I'm not brooding."  He couldn't help but smile when he was looking at Keith, even with everything waiting for him back at the Garrison.  
  
Keith rolled his eyes and risked a glance over his shoulder to where Lance was strapped into a seat behind him. Faint snores escaped his open mouth and a thin line of drool was steadily working its way down his chin. He unbuckled his harness and leaned over to cup Shiro's jaw, pressing their lips together gently to avoid too great a temptation.  
  
"You can wait in the plane when we go get Pidge if you want. Deal with everything when we get back." Keith's face was unreadable.  
  
Shiro sighed. "No, I should do it now. Rip the bandaid off." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Keith or himself. "Plus, I still have to talk to Iverson, anyway."   
  
Keith ran his tongue over his bottom lip and leaned back into his own seat. "Has he said anything else?" He didn't meet Shiro's eyes.  
  
Shiro shook his head. "Not since before we left Daibazaal." Anxiety was rolling off Keith in waves; his left hand was curled into a white-knuckled fist and his breaths came far too evenly for them to be unconscious.  
  
"You're," Keith's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "You guys are really done, right? This wasn't a, a," his right hand waved between them inarticulately.  
  
"Keith," Shiro whispered, already reaching for his harness and squeezing into the too-small space between the pilots' chairs. "I'm not," he shook his head. He wanted to be indignant, to be angry at Keith's lack of faith, but he knew he deserved it.  
  
His prosthetic drifted to Keith's face and gently turned it towards him. "I love you, and I'm an idiot for waiting this long to do something about it. I won't make that mistake again."  
  
The relieved smile that bloomed across Keith's face nearly tore his heart in two. The soft press of lips against his bulky metal palm mended it. Their lips met before Shiro realized he'd even leaned over and the arms around his shoulders pulled him halfway into Keith's seat. Their noses bumped and their teeth clacked almost painfully, but they hardly noticed.  
  
Lance, however, noticed once at. "Really!? I fall asleep for five minutes and you guys are just gonna bang instead of flying the ship?"  
  
Shiro stepped back too fast and his arms pinwheeled once, not soon enough to keep him from slamming into his own seat with a pained groan. "It's on autopilot," Keith grunted. "And you were asleep for three hours."  
  
Lance folded his arms across his chest. "That's still like, way against regulation or whatever."  
  
"Who cares about regulation?" Shiro and Keith asked at the same time, both voices dripping with sarcasm.  
  
All three of them laughed as Shiro and Keith refastened their harnesses. Keith switched off the autopilot and started preparing for their landing a few minutes early.

* * *

  
"Hopefully this won't take long," Shiro said, trying to keep the nervous edge out of his voice. "I'll meet you guys back here when I'm done."  
  
Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It did little to steady his nerves. The warm weight of a hand landing on his shoulder made him smile as he opened his to Keith by his side.

"Good luck," Keith whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Shiro nodded and made his way to the hangar door. He'd walked from the hangar to the quarters he shared with Curtis hundreds of times, if not thousands, in the past five years. It felt like he was walking to the gallows.

He hoped he was only imagining all of the odd glances and hasty whispers as he passed by his fellow officers and the cadets milling about. It was unusual for him to be out of uniform around the base and word had probably spread quickly about his unscheduled personal leave, but he knew the Garrison was like a small town; rumors were rampant and everyone loved gossip.

The code didn't work on the first try and Shiro paused, wondering if Curtis had already changed it. He wasn't sure if he should knock or if he should have called first or if Curtis would even be able to stomach looking at him. The door slid open when he tried again.

Shiro's eyes widened as he looked around the small living room. There was a stack of boxes in the center of the room and everything but the furniture was gone. Guilt stacked more heavily onto his chest as he walked down the barren hallway that once held an artful arrangement of their wedding photos.

He paused at the doorway to the bedroom. Curtis was kneeling next to their bed, making piles out of the items he removed from the nightstand.

"Hey," he murmured past the lump in his throat.

Curtis froze, shoulders tensing. Shiro heard his sharp inhale as he slowly turned his head towards the door. "I wasn't expecting you for a while. I wanted all this to be finished when you got back."

Shiro nodded and stepped a little farther into the room, just far enough to lean against the door frame. "I just came back to tell Mitch I might be gone for longer and figured," he trailed off and shrugged. "I don't know what I figured. That I owed you an explanation, I guess."

Curtis stood and straightened out the wrinkles in his pants. Shiro bit the inside of his cheek as he watched; it was a nervous tick that he used to find endearing, but watching it then just hurt.

"You don't owe me anything, Takashi." Curtis finally turned to him with a watery smile.

In three strides Shiro was across the room, pulling him into his arms. It was a reflex that he couldn't beat back, no matter how inappropriate it felt. Curtis melted into him and Shiro braced himself for tears and sobs that never came.

"I'm sorry," Shiro whispered, resisting the urge to kiss the side of his head like he'd always done before.

Curtis sighed into his neck. "It's for the best and we both know it."

Shiro's eyes stung with tears and, not trusting his voice, he nodded.

"I hope that you find whatever it is you're looking for, and I'm sorry it couldn't be me."

Shiro let a few tears slide down his cheeks, disappearing into the soft brown hair that still smelled like his own shampoo. "Me too." There was nothing else he could say.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. It was far more peaceful an ending than he ever could have asked for and he knew it was more than he deserved, but Shiro had never been good at saying goodbye.

Curtis pulled away. "You should get going, Iverson has a meeting in an hour because of you so you're already on his shitlist." He sniffled and tried to smile past the obvious rasp in his voice.

Shiro tried his best to smile back before wrapping his hand around the back of Curtis's head and kissing his forehead. "I'll let you know when I get back," he promised quietly.

The sad smile faded into an irritated groan. "God, we're going to have to get lawyers."

Shiro choked out a strangled laugh. "I'm glad you have your priorities straight."

"Always," Curtis replied with a small chuckle of his own.

"I could just fake my own death and never come back. No divorce. No lawyers. Easy." It was even easier to slide back into the familiar teasing.

"It would be a lot more convenient for me, but I don't think your friends would approve." Curtis shook his head. "I'm gonna miss you," he whispered softly, eyes shining with love and heartache.

It made Shiro's heart ache, too. He almost wished he could return that love, but he knew, and somewhere deep down he realized that he _always_ knew, that it wasn't meant to be. "I'm gonna miss you, too."

Curtis cleared his throat and stood straighter. "Get out of here before I embarrass both of us by begging you to stay."

The way he said it came off as a joke, but it still tore at Shiro's heart. He licked his lips and tried to think of something to say, but no words came to him. With a final nod, he turned around and left their bedroom, their quarters, their marriage behind.

More whispers followed him through the halls to Iverson's office. Passing by so many familiar places that suddenly felt so foreign was jarring. He didn't bother stopping to knock at Iverson's office door for fear of losing his nerve.

Iverson's face snapped up from his computer with a deep scowl that only deepened further when his gaze landed on Shiro. The door shut behind him with a thud that might as well have been a gunshot for how loud it felt.

“Takeshi.”

The mispronunciation of his name made Shiro smirk and gave him hope that the conversation would be easier than he'd originally thought. “Mutch.”

Iverson's scowl flared into a snarl. “I should court martial you.”

Shiro cocked his head back in surprise. “It’s not illegal to come back to base when you’re on leave,” he protested with an uncomfortable chuckle, hoping the rumors of his split with Curtis hadn't reached as far as the brass yet.

“Maybe you wanna pull your collar over the _teeth marks_ on your neck while I finish this quarters transfer request for your _husband_ , and try playing stupid with me again,” Iverson seethed, eye narrowing. He rested his chin on his clasped hands, waiting for Shiro to respond.

Shiro felt his face heat up and pulled the collar closer around his neck, zipping his jacket higher just to be safe. At least it explained all the strange looks.

“Why are you here, son?” Iverson finally groaned, quickly growing tired of their staring contest.

“I uh,” Shiro coughed into his fist. “I might need more than 5 more weeks.”

Iverson took a deep breath and slowly let it leave his chest. “Fine,” he said, sharp and direct as ever, turning back to his screen. “I should have retired and gone to Altea with that handsome mustachioed man,” he mumbled under his breath as he edited Shiro's paperwork.

The comment gave him pause, but the lack of protest at his request or demand to know why Shiro needed the extension had him floored. Shiro couldn't bring himself to ask _it can't really be this easy, right?_

“Get the hell out of my office," Iverson finally snapped.

The barked command had Shiro snapping to attention on reflex. “Yes sir!”

He turned on his heel and reached for the door, but Iverson's voice quietly calling out his proper name stopped him. He looked over his shoulder with a raised brow.

“Is it at least that doe-eyed brat?”

Shiro's trepidation faded into a soft smile. “Yes sir.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for this part to be so long so i broke it up. Keith, Lance, and Pidge are front and center next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

Keith watched Shiro walk through the hangar with his head held high and his shoulders squared like he was walking to the gallows. He wanted desperately to sprint after him, put his hand on Shiro's shoulder and stand by his side, but he knew that Shiro had to face those trials alone. Feeling helpless didn't sit well with him. 

“This is awkward,” Lance interrupted his internal musings. “We have to go that way too. We coulda just walked together,” he grumbled, stretching his arms wide over his head and yawning. 

Keith rolled his eyes, though it was mostly in fondness. They still pushed each other's buttons endlessly but it was a far cry from the oil and water they'd been all those years ago. 

“Just give him a minute, it's symbolic.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. 

To his credit, Lance waited about five minutes before barreling past him, knocking their shoulders together. “He has long legs, we can just walk slow.” 

It was a fair point, and the faster they got Pidge on board the faster they could leave, so Keith followed Lance as he made his way through the door in Shiro's wake. They got a lot of curious glances as they strode through the once familiar halls- Keith hadn't been back to the Garrison in years. 

Keith raised an eyebrow as Lance stopped in front of the MFE test lab. “I need to take a quick detour,” Lance explained after a brief awkward pause at the door. “Gotta talk to Veronica.” 

“Telling a bunch of people what we're doing is a bad call,” Keith protested. 

Lance shook his head. “I gotta tell her. I can't put my family through not knowing what happened to me again.” 

Keith huffed. “Quit being dramatic. We'll make it back.” 

Lance turned to him with the most serious expression Keith could ever recall seeing on his normally jovial face. A long moment passed between them and Keith knew what Lance was going to say before the words left his mouth. He couldn't find it in himself to blame him. 

“Keith, if Allura,” Lance's voice was quiet, raspy. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and cleared his throat. “If she's there and I can see her, be with her again,” he trailed off, eyes searching Keith's desperately.

A sudden flash of blinding white light covered Keith's vision and he felt the sensation of falling even though his feet were still firmly planted on the ground. Shiro's half-conscious body bathed in fire and light and falling debris swam to the forefront of his mind. “I get it,” he murmured, licking his lips and nodding. “Do what you have to do. I'll make sure everyone else gets back safe.” 

Lance’s grief-stricken face softened. “Thanks man.” He reached out and rapped his knuckles against Keith's chest. “You're an ok leader I guess.”

Keith chuckled and crossed his arms again. “I'd rather be an ok friend.”

Lance smirked at him, but the pithy comment died on his lips before he voiced it. He nodded. “Alright, time to face the music.” His palm slapped against the door frame before sliding to the handle. 

He paused as Keith rolled his eyes and leaned up against the wall. “Wait are you just gonna stand there?” 

“Yeah? You want me to go get Pidge without you?” 

Lance rolled his eyes. “James is in here,” he craned his head towards the door. “Maybe you should go get some closure with the guy you jumped into a garbage chute to avoid on the Atlas?” 

Keith’s face paled before twisting into  a mask of disgust. “It was an _air vent,”_ he protested, pushing off the wall with his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “And he's the last person I wanna see!” 

“Keith!” 

Keith's blood ran cold at the familiar voice. “Oh no…” he'd spoken too soon. James wasn't quite the  _ last _ person Keith wanted to see. 

Lance bit his lip to stifle a laugh as he leaned around Keith and gave Curtis a friendly wave. “Good luck buddy,” he whispered, patting Keith on the arm before disappearing into the lab. 

“Traitor,” Keith grumbled under his breath before turning around. “Hey Curt.” The unwelcomed nickname passed his lips out of habit before he could bite it back. Curtis didn't seem bothered if it had even registered at all. Keith tried not to notice the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. 

“I uh,” Curtis sniffled and swallowed hard. Keith briefly considered the merits of sprinting back to the ship to avoid the conversation, but decided Lance's mockery was too heavy a price to pay. “I just talked to Ta- to Shiro.”

Keith licked his lips, unsure of what to say. All he could do was nod. 

Curtis turned his head to look through the small window to the lab before turning his gaze back to Keith. “I was actually heading here to talk to James, but I'm glad I ran into you.” 

“Oh.” Keith wracked his brain for something helpful to say but even remembering to breathe was difficult as anxiety squeezed his lungs like a vice. He would rather face down an enemy fleet than continue their discussion, but Curtis made no move to head into the lab. 

“I just… I wanted to make sure you knew there were no hard feelings. It would have happened eventually with or without you guys,” he gestured vaguely towards Keith and looked away. 

Keith's arms dropped to his side in relief. Hearing it from Shiro was one thing, but the acknowledgement from Curtis lifted the last vestiges of doubt that lingered in his mind. 

“I uh,” Keith scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I'm sorry it didn't work out.” 

Curtis nodded a few times and adjusted his glasses before clearing his throat.

“Just to warn you though, he will absolutely eat so much macaroni and cheese that he makes himself sick. And god help you if he gets a cold, he's a real crybaby.” Curtis gurgled out a laugh that came out in a half sob. 

Keith’s patience for the awkward conversation was quickly wearing thin. “Thanks, I guess? What are you,” he shook his head and shrugged. “Why are you telling me this?” 

Curtis took a deep breath and gave him a watery smile. Keith braced himself for more tears that he wasn't prepared to handle. 

“He still has nightmares sometimes,” Curtis murmured only a breath above a whisper. “And it's not my name he's screaming when he wakes up.”

The quiet statement felt like a punch to the gut. Keith spent many nights gulping in ragged gasps of air, fighting away his own demons. He could only imagine what Shiro must have dealt with. 

“Take care of him, Keith. Take care of each other.” Curtis reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“We will.” They always had. It was an easy promise to make. 

Curtis nodded and let his hand fall back to his side. “I'm gonna,” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder back towards the direction he'd come. “Can you tell James I'll be in his room?” 

Keith agreed quietly and watched him walk back down the hallway before he processed the statement. He didn't want to talk to James or think about why Curtis might have access to his quarters, but he'd given his word. It all made his head spin.

The universe was a vast and mysterious place, and Keith had never put much stock in religion, but he was very sure that there was some sort of cosmic deity out there as he walked through the laboratory door. A deity that had a personal vendetta against him for some reason. The feeling was mutual. 

James and the rest of his team, sans Veronica, were huddled around a computer, watching data from their latest sim stream by. Keith cleared his throat and tried not to bristle under their curious gazes as they all turned.

“Curtis wanted to talk to you. Said he's in your quarters when you're done.” Keith hoped being blunt and to the point would keep the conversation short.

His hopes were dashed as James asked the team to clear the room and give them a minute. Rizavi sulked between Kinkade and Leifsdottir as they all but dragged her into one of the small conference rooms shooting off from the main lab area. 

James leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, studying Keith quietly for a moment. “Been a while.”

Keith matched his guarded posture unconsciously. “Intentionally.” 

James smiled and huffed out a quiet laugh. “Look, I just wanted to say-”

Keith stifled him with a hand, holding it palm up between them pleadingly and letting his shoulders drop. “I've had a lot of really deep conversations today and I'm at my tipping point. We're good.” He'd spent five years avoiding the conversation and was hoping the simple statement would get him out of it entirely. 

“Oh.” James said with wide eyes, pushing off from the desk. “Ok, cool.” He held his hand out between them.

Keith blinked and pursed his lips before taking it, pumping twice and letting go. It was a gentlemen's agreement to let sleeping dogs lie and that suited Keith just fine. 

The door to another conference room clicked open and Lance strode out. His eyes were puffy and his face was pale. Keith prayed to whoever was listening that Lance wouldn't want to talk about it. 

“I'll let you uh,” James nodded towards Lance as he approached. “Deal with that.” He cleared his throat. “Let me know if you wanna take a spin in the upgraded MFEs. I've been dying for a race.” 

Keith chuckled. “Gimme a month, I'll be back to wipe the floor with you.” 

James clapped him on the back and nodded to Lance as he headed in to check on Veronica. 

“Come on,” Lance deadpanned, none of the emotion on his face leaking into his voice. “Let's go get Pidge.” 

* * *

Music was blaring outside of the lab loud enough to have Keith’s teeth gnashing even before Lance threw the door open. Two sets of goggles poked up from two different, but equally smoldering, machines. 

“Keith!” Pidge’s voice rang out over the thumping electronic beat. “Sev, kill the music!” 

The music stopped as Pidge climbed out of her smoking pile of wreckage and thundered down the lab to leap into Keith’s arms. He caught her with a grunt of surprise and melted into the hug. “Good to see you, Pidge,” he murmured. 

She pulled back with a grin and tugged her goggled down to rest around her neck. “Are you finally coming back to the Garrison? I have so many cool planes to test and Griffin is a big weeny and won’t get near any of them!” 

Keith laughed and shook his head, but Matt and N-7 strode up behind her before he could answer. “In his defense,” N-7 interjected, “several of them have exploded.” 

Matt scoffed. “One of them. One.” He held up a finger for emphasis as Pidge crossed her arms with a pout.

Keith wasn’t sure how the faceplate managed to convey the complicated emotion of  _ I love you but you’re a moron  _ but it made him laugh. Matt reached out and shoved his shoulder lightly as they all chuckled together. “It’s good to see you, man.” 

Keith nodded. “You too. Seems like you guys are doing,” he trailed off looking around at all of the equipment in various stages of disarray. “Science at least?” 

Lance groaned next to him. “What am I, chopped liver?” He put his hands on his hips and glared at Pidge. 

“Oh shut up, I saw you two weeks ago. You suck at being retired.” 

“Well you suck at, at… lots of stuff!” 

N-7 grabbed the back of her lab coat as Pidge lunged, holding her in place. “What brings both of you to our lab today?” She asked sweetly, changing the subject as a ploy to keep Lance and Pidge from continuing their pointless argument. 

Keith sighed and looked over at Lance in a wordless request for him to explain. Lance rolled his eyes. “Secret team Voltron adventure. We’re here to steal Pidge.” 

Pidge’s eyes lit up and she stopped struggling against N-7’s grip. “I’m so in!” She turned to Matt with murder in her eyes. “Don’t tell mom until we’re like… 3 galaxies minimum from here.” 

Matt sighed and shook his head. “Just be careful,” he agreed with a shrug. Turning towards Lance and Keith he grinned. “I’d say take care of my sister, but,” he tossed his hands in the air dismissively. 

Pidge beamed. “How long are we gonna be gone? Can we take one of my new planes? Is Hunk with you?” 

Keith smiled. “At least a month. Not the exploding one. Not yet, we’re getting him next.” 

She pumped a fist in the air. “I’ve been so bored, you guys have no idea! The Garrison has us working on a bunch of cool stuff but I haven’t been in space in like… months. It’s the worst,” she kept rambling as they said their goodbyes to Matt and N-7 and headed back down to the hangar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> subtle James/Curtis 100% for the ship name Jurtis. I'm a little sorry, but not really.


End file.
